


Masu-kastra

by sixbeforelunch



Series: Pi'maat [4]
Category: Star Trek
Genre: Books, Bureaucracy, Chronic Pain, F/M, Food, Insomnia, Marriage, POV Original Character, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Vulcan, Vulcan Bond, Vulcan Culture, liminal space, moving forward, no canon characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 15:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/pseuds/sixbeforelunch
Summary: Masu-kastra: n., a marsh, a place where the sea meets land.T'Lin makes her way through a liminal space.





	Masu-kastra

**Author's Note:**

> The economics of TNG/DS9-era Star Trek are totally borked. You've got Picard telling Lily that he comes from a money-free society in _First Contact_ , yet there are the Ferengi worshiping their profits, Quark running his bar and selling goods and services to Starfleet officers, restaurants and shops all over DS9's promenade, people robbing banks, people running guns, people attempting to steal phlebotinum from the _Enterprise_ to sell to the highest bidder. And the Federation has to interact with all of these societies, and a hundred more that don't have any sort of canon-defined economy, but clearly aren't post-scarcity. The Federation isn't even post-scarcity. I thought about writing a 5000 word meta about how I think Earth tried to remake themselves into a post-money society and it only sort of worked, and now it has a convoluted credit system that is basically a monetary system that's been needlessly complicated, and the rest of the Federation just sort of rolls their eyes at and goes on using their internal currencies at home and Federation credits for inter-planetary transactions. But, I've got a full-time job, a sick cat, and a car that's several thousand miles overdue for an oil change. I don't have time for that. I'm not disregarding canon and I'm not dismissing the idea of a money-free society. Only canon doesn't parse and I don't see this as a viable money-free society. All of this is to say that there are references to people paying for things in this fic. As the kids are saying these days, don't @ me.
> 
>  **Content notes:** Sex between two people in a committed relationship is referenced but not shown explicitly. Nothing very terrible happens on screen, but there are mentions of mind rape, spousal abuse, and stalking. One character suffers from chronic pain as a result of a past burn injury. Mentions of cancer, fully treatable with handwavey 24th century medicine.
> 
> Readers of the series may notice that I changed the name. As it goes on, it's less and less about the war, and more about family and friendship ties generally. The new title means 'kin', and seems apt. H/t as always to Mark Gardner for his work on the Vulcan language, and to the Vulcan Language Dictionary, for making it easy to look up words.

T'Lin's first impression of Vulcana Regar was that it was bright. They were coming into it at night, across a desert as black as coal, and when it first appeared on the horizon the city was like a star fallen to the ground. As they drew nearer, the fine detail of sky scrapers and amusement parks and the spaceport came into view.

For all that she had been born and raised in a tiny sea side village, T'Lin hardly considered herself provincial. But as they entered the city proper, the buildings and the lights and the shuttles flying through the air were too much. She closed the blind to the small cabin that she was sharing with Veral, and turned away.

"I found it overwhelming also, the first time I came," Veral said. "I still do." Veral had lived in Shi'kahr for most of his life, but Vulcana Regar was of another magnitude altogether.

"It seems like too much."

"It is too much. There is a reason the city is over fifty percent alien. Most Vulcans cannot tolerate it for more than a few weeks." He scratched at his chin. He had been called away to an emergency shortly before they left, and it had left him no time to shave. There was scraggy growth on his cheeks and chin. She wondered if a full beard would suit him. She thought it might.

Their train drew to a stop in at the transportation hub just outside of the spaceport. From there it was a short subway ride to the so-called Epicenter. Their hotel was on the outskirts of that central section of the city.

Emerging onto the street, there was a cacophony of noise. Drums and dancing, talking, shouting, singing that sounded distinctly inebriated, the faint mechanical whir of shuttles overhead. 

Their hotel was only seven hundred and ten meters away, so they walked. T'Lin positioned Veral in front of her and grabbed onto the back of his robe, trusting him to get her through the worst of the tumult. She was only here because Veral had asked her to handle the logistics of his visit, so that he could focus on the medical conference. He could act as her shield against the crowd.

They lobby of the hotel was mercifully quiet, and they made it to their rooms with little trouble. Their luggage had been sent ahead, and T'Lin went to work unpacking, and setting their small suite to rights while Veral read over some materials on a PADD. When she was finished, Veral looked up and asked, "Are you tired?"

"Not at all." It was the middle of the night in Vulcana Regar, but at home it was only early evening.

"If you want to sleep I brought medication."

"You are the one who has to get up early. I have already arranged your breakfast, and I have no other duties until the afternoon. I intend to lie in that bed most of the morning."

Veral set his PADD aside and looked at the large bed. "I would prefer to lie in it with you. We should take a proper vacation soon."

"I would enjoy that. But given how much you work, I don't think it likely."

She sensed something from him that she could not quite identify, and he sighed. "I do not work so much by choice."

"I never suggested you did. I know that you have much to do."

"I confess I thought that my greatest challenge would be a lack of work. I failed to take into account all of the administrative tasks that were done for me in the larger hospitals where I worked previously. And the overall poorer health of a post-war population." Even arranging things so that he could come to Vulcana Regar to take in four days of supplementary education had required him to work long days in advance of his time away.

Her faint annoyance at having been asked to come with him evaporated. It made no logical sense for him to add logistical concerns to his already over-loaded schedule. If being available to arrange his meals and his clothing and keep the space tidy for him and attend to any incidentals that might arise meant having to spend time in Vulcana Regar, so be it. She had endured far worse.

Veral scratched at his cheek. "I should shave."

"Don't," T'Lin said. Veral raised an eyebrow and T'Lin made an uncertain gesture. "I want to see what you look like with a beard."

He blinked at her. "Very well."

"Are you going take a sleep aid?"

"No. The sifrath works better than the previous drug, but it makes me restless in the morning. I do not want to deal with that right now. What is one more sleepless night?"

She did not like to hear him dismiss his insomnia so lightly.

"I brought you thinri, however. It works much better, and should not produce any side effects."

"Why can you not take that instead?"

"I have a mutation on my GN-128 gene. It changes the way I metabolize certain substances, including nearly every modern sleep drug. I had to go back three generations to find a drug that my body will respond to, and even at that my options are limited."

"Can they edit the gene? They edited two of mine."

"Those edits were needed to keep you alive. The leukemia caused by haseem gas exposure would have killed you otherwise."

"Haseem is the carcinogen that asbestos wants to be when it grows up," was how one of her Terran doctors had put it. "You'll be playing whack-a-mole with cancer for the rest of your life, but fortunately modern medicine has gotten pretty good at that game."

T'Lin did not know what 'whack-a-mole' was (and neither had the doctor when questioned), but she had already been treated for cancer twice more since her initial bout of leukemia, although both times had required only a few days of medication. There were worse ones lurking, she knew. They might pounce tomorrow, or in a century, or never. It was illogical to worry about them, so she did not.

"That does not explain why they cannot edit your genes as well."

Veral shook his head. "Ten years ago, any doctor would have written up the request and any ethics committee would have rubber stamped it. But since they found that genetically engineered Starfleet officer who managed to avoid detection for so long...the Terrans used their influence to push through draconian new additions to the existing gene editing laws, and now I would have to be suffering far more than I am to qualify."

"Illogical."

"Entirely," Veral agreed. "Vulcan fought the changes all the way, but Earth and others whipped up enough anti-gene engineering frenzy that logic would not penetrate. So many were against us that there was a real risk of reprisal if we did not comply with the new laws. My own doctor tells me that she would perform the change in a moment, if it did not mean putting her license and even her very freedom at risk."

T'Lin shook her head. "Such a small change, so easily effected, and they keep it from you."

Veral spread his hands in resignation. "Fear-based decision making rarely leads to good results. Give them another ten years. The initial panic will pass, and maybe then reason will be restored."

T'Lin sat down next to him. The hotel suite was small, but sufficient for the time they would spend in it. It had a large bed--T'Lin had contacted many, many hotels in an effort to find a bed that Veral could stretch out in--next to a window. The view was only of the building next to it, although there was a balcony that would allow them to look down on the street below. The hot room was small, really intended for one person, or two if they enjoyed each other very much, which fortunately she and her husband did. The toilet facilities were likewise small, but comfortable, although there were several odd contraptions that she assumed were intended for species with digestive systems very different from her own.

The sitting area was sunken, a circular couch centered around a firepot--holographic, of course. Veral stretched out on the couch and put his head in her lap. She looked around, thinking about the time she had spent on Rega station before it had been attacked. There, a room with four beds and a shared bathroom had been the extent of the accommodations, and the refugees had considered even that a step up from the crowded and unsanitary conditions that most of them had been forced to endure for weeks.

She remembered an adult and four small children, not from a Federation world, but from another planet that had been caught in the crossfire in the way that the weak were often trampled underfoot when the giants fought. She had taken them to their room, and they had started at her in awe when she had explained that the entire space was for their family group alone, and that there was no mistake, they all got a bed and a blanket of their own.

By Vulcan standards, this suite was small and limited and meant only for temporary accommodation. No one would expect to live in it. By Federation standards, it was modest even for a hotel suite. But by galactic standards, it was large and luxurious. Despite everything, she knew herself to be very fortunate. The mere fact of being a Vulcan citizen meant that she would never, barring the total breakdown of her government, lack for necessities, and modern society gave her most of what she wanted on top of that.

She was not going to get bogged down in notions of fairness, because the universe cared not for those, but it did seem to her that she had a certain moral responsibility to attempt in her own small way to give as she had been given to.

"Do you want to go out?" Veral asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"No," T'Lin said, with emphasis.

She felt his amusement. "It is less frenetic during the day. You may like it better then."

"Perhaps." She put her hand on his head and began rubbing a small circle behind his ear with her thumb. There was an ottoman close by, and she managed to pull it over with her foot so that she could put her feet up without disturbing him. "Computer, entertainment options."

A holographic display appeared above the fake fire, offering a menu that seemed designed to induce choice paralysis.

"History documentaries," she said. "Subject: pre-Federation galactic history."

A still overwhelming menu of options appeared. "Subject: galactic history prior to the year 12,000."

A much more reasonable menu appeared. She selected a documentary about a space-faring culture she had never heard of. Veral settled against her, one hand resting against the inside of her knee. She ran her fingers through his hair, nails against his scalp. He sighed and turned his head slightly, giving her access to the back of his neck. She scratched at the back of his neck, right at the hairline, and felt him shiver and then go limp.

She kept up the gentle pressure, alternated with scratching her nails against her scalp and playing with his ears, until she felt him slip away into a light sleep. It was hard to say how long it would last, but anything was better than nothing, and she resolved to stay where she was until he woke on his own, watching a professor of technological history describe the workings of an alien cargo ship.

*

"How is your neck?" Veral asked the next morning. She had fallen asleep on the couch with his head in her lap and her neck at an odd angle. All of her work to get them a nice bed and they had not even used it.

"Sore."

"You should have woken me."

"A sore neck is a small price to pay for you getting some sleep," T'Lin said. There was no kitchen in their suite, only a space to heat water for tea, but she had arranged for breakfast to be sent up. They were on the balcony, eating roasted vegetables at a metal table. She traced the lines of the table with one finger. Her genetic memory still insisted that metal was a luxury on this naturally metal-poor world even though asteroid mining and intergalactic trade meant it was plentiful these days.

Veral frowned, but didn't to pursue the argument. "What are you going to do today?"

"Once you leave, I am going back to bed. Then, after, I may explore the city." In the morning light, it seemed almost inviting. The carnival atmosphere of the previous night was gone. She assumed the revelers had gone home to sleep off the previous night's debaucheries.

"Be careful not to overtire yourself."

T'Lin raised an eyebrow. She appreciated his concern, but she was never going to find out what her new limits were if she stayed always within the safety of her comfort zone. Excess activity triggered pain flares, but as she cautiously exerted herself, the boundaries of her abilities expanded.

"Remember your medication if you go out."

Did he think her likely to forget it? "I will," she said, unwilling to chastise him for wanting to take care of her. She understood the psychology. He could not make her better, so he tried to control what he could. But sometimes that led to him trying to control _her_. Her mother was the same, and had been far more extreme about it those first few weeks at home. T'Lyra had coddled her like an infant, until T'Lin had had an outburst of temper that she could not bring herself to regret, and made it clear that she was capable of getting a glass of water on her own.

She stretched out on the bed after Veral left. She left the door to the balcony open, and a gentle breeze blew through the room. She slept off and on for about two hours, and then got up and availed herself of the hot room, scrubbing with exfoliating mud, wiping it off, putting tetau-sok'i on her skin, letting herself sweat, and finally dousing herself in cool water and drinking two full glasses of water when she came out.

She felt energized from the whole process, and left the hotel somewhat more hopeful than she had been.

Her wandering led her through the J'vralek Street Market, where on a whim she bought a _Hidden Universe Guide to Vulcan_ , along with necklace for herself, and a ring in Veral's size.

A conversation with the proprietor of one of the stalls led her to the Botanical Garden of Vulcana Regar, which boasted plants from eighty one planets. They had been arranged, not by planet of origin, but by climate needs, and so the afril that grew in her own garden at home crept along the ground next to a Terran fern.

A bench in a tucked away corner of the garden afforded her a place to read her book--a curious experience, reading about her homeworld through alien eyes--and when she had finished, to watch people walking past.

Leaving the botanical garden led her into a very touristy part of the city. She stopped into a cafe, but the plomeek soup looked pale and watery.

"Is all of your food made in the Shi'kahri way?" she asked the man standing by the front counter.

"All of our food is made in the tourist way," he said. "You do not want to eat here."

She looked around and realized that almost no one in the establishment was Vulcan. "Where do I want to eat?"

He sent her to a tiny restaurant that was hard to get to, on the third floor of an old stone house. It was dimly lit, and filled with a combination of old men and women playing kal-toh and other games while sipping tea, and young professionals frowning over PADDs. It had the best rin salad she had ever eaten in her life.

She sat for a while by a window in the back corner of the cafe, drinking her tea--also very good--and looking down at the street below. The alley that the window overlooked was narrow, and contained no shops or attractions. It was dark, and on either end narrow stone arches dating from a time when the population had been largely malnourished meant that many people had almost no clearance on either side, and some had to duck or turn sideways. It was not a comfortable walkway, and the few people who used it were clearly only interested in getting from one end to the other.

She got up, paid for her meal with a swipe of her thumb against the PADD on the table, and went down into the alley below.

It smelled old. Not precisely bad, but musty and stale. She stood, equidistant from either entrance, and looked up. A small sliver of sky was visible between the buildings. Through the stone arches, she could see the main streets. They were very different streets. She was at the edge of the old and the new. To her left, she saw ancient buildings. To her right, modern store fronts.

_Masu-kastra._

The word came into her head. She liked words, liked tracing them back through the ages, and peeling away layers of meaning. Masu-kastra, literally meaning a marsh where water turned to land, more broadly meaning an area of transition, or an area where things were mixed up and complicated. More abstractly used to refer to any liminal space.

She put her back against the stone wall, spread out her arms and pressed her palms into the rough brick, and turned her head from side to side. Left and right. Old and new.

Someone walked past her, glanced at her, and then quickly away.

She looked like a lunatic she realized, dropped her hands quickly, and left the alley. But the word followed her out. Masu-kastra. Masu. Water. Sea. She belonged to Masutra, the clan of the sea. The sea was always in transition.

Masu-kastra, a liminal space or condition. Liminality, the transition from one state of being to another.

Her breath quickened and she began to feel like a boat that was being tossed on the waves. She needed something grounding. Something real and solid. She needed a place to sit and think. A temple or--she stopped abruptly in front of a building. A sign listing all of the shops in the building hung on the side, and on the fifth floor, "Conundrum Books: Books Bought, Traded, and Sold".

She took the lift, and found herself in a cool, dim space, surrounded on every side with books. Her tension ebbed away.

The proprietor, a Terran woman, smiled at her, but her smile dimmed when she saw the book in T'Lin's hand. "I don't take those. I'm sorry. Take it back to the stall where you bought it. If it's still in good condition, they'll usually buy it back for fifty percent of what you paid and re-sell it to someone else."

T'Lin looked at the book in her hand. She had taken it out of her pocket unconsciously while she had been walking, probably just because she needed something to do. She put it back. "I am not looking to sell it."

The smile returned at full force. "Then how can I help you?"

"I saw the sign. I was curious."

"Great. Welcome. We sell mystery novels, primarily. A little heavy on the Terran, especially the Terran-Chinese, because that's my native culture, but I'm trying to keep a diverse selection in stock. I've also got some non-mystery stuff, the usual Surak for the tourists. I assume that despite the tourism book you aren't one of those."

"No," T'Lin said. A true enough answer. In her experience Terrans liked to talk, and if she said she was not from Vulcana Regar, she would open herself up to questions about where she was from and what it was like and probably comments about how strange it was to imagine a sea-side Vulcan community.

"Sherlock Holmes," T'Lin said, spying a very nice complete set and reminding herself that she already owned a very nice complete set.

"Oh, yeah," the woman said. "Not my personal favorite, but always a good seller, especially on this planet. I prefer Judge Dee for ancient Terran detectives."

The woman handed her a book. _Celebrated Cases of Judge Dee_. T'Lin flipped through the pages. It was in Standard. "Do you have it in Golic?" T'Lin could read Standard, but it was not nearly as pleasant as reading in Golic.

The woman shook her head. "No, sorry. It's hard to get things in Golic. No one seems to be interested in translating this sort of stuff, and computer translations are--" She made a dismissive gesture that T'Lin entirely agreed with. Computer translations were technically accurate and artistically barren. "Of course it doesn't help that that book was originally written in 18th century Chinese. I don't know of anyone who can go straight from Chinese to Golic. I mean, I'm sure there's someone somewhere, but odds are they don't happen to be a devotee of gong'an fiction. And the more languages you go through in a translation the more...fuzzy things get. You like Sherlock Holmes?"

"I do."

"Do you like any other detective novels?"

T'Lin hesitated. It was illogical to be embarrassed about ignorance. Only the unwillingness to learn was shameful. "I was not aware that it existed as a genre," she admitted. "I once asked for books like Sherlock Holmes, and the librarian gave me _Wuthering Heights_ by Emily Brontë. He said it was from the same time and place on Earth. I did not enjoy it. I did not try again. There were too many other things to read."

The woman cringed. "I don't blame you. Similar time and place, totally different genre. And Emily Brontë...I can't think of anyone less likely to appeal to Vulcan sensibilities. Except maybe Loan Nguyen-Song. Wait here."

The woman disappeared into the maze of books and returned with two volumes in Golic. _The Abandoned Station_ had an illustration of an Andorian on the cover. _Sixteen Flying Reptiles_ showed a landscape scene.

"This is one of my favorite detective series. If you like Sherlock Holmes, you'll like Professor Ugon. She's got a similar logical, unemotional approach to problem solving. And as a bonus the author writes in Standard with the expectation that she'll be translated into local languages. I'm told very little gets lost in the translation."

T'Lin flipped through both. They were inexpensive editions. A note on the first page listed the chemical composition of the ink and paper used, and suggested what plants the book would best feed, if she chose to compost it, a sure sign that these were not volumes designed to stay in a family library for generations. They were correspondingly cheap, and she bought both.

She left the bookstore feeling grounded, but tired. Her feet ached, and a headache was starting to form behind her eyes. She wanted to keep walking, keep exploring, but she was standing on the threshold between healthy testing of her limits and overexertion that might land her in bed most of the day tomorrow. She took the logical course and headed back to the hotel. 

She had gone farther afield than she realized, and Vulcana Regar in midday was hot. The streets were all but abandoned by offworlders, and even the Vulcans had their hoods up and were walking slowly in the shade. Her headache blossomed into a vice-like grip on her temples, and the tips of her fingers had begun to tingle, a bad sign. She had been on foot all morning, but she ducked down below into the subway station then. A quick reading of the map told her that it would actually be faster to walk back to her hotel, but the subway was cool, and she could sit down while she waited for the train.

The first few paragraphs of _The Abandoned Station_ were intriguing, but she could not focus. The words were beginning to swim in front of her. The subway arrived. It was full, all the seats were taken, and even standing everyone was too close.

It was a simplistic analogy, but she thought of her re-grown nerves like children. They were confused, inexperienced, and prone to tantrums. At present, her nerves only whimpered. Someone brushed against her, and they cried out, but were soothed when the stimulus went away. But she knew them. She knew that they were rapidly reaching the point of meltdown. At this point, she might not be able to prevent it. Her only hope might be that it would happen not in public in this hot subway car, but in a cool, private, comfortable space.

The subway finally pulled into the station nearest her hotel. She took the lift up. The cool air of the hotel lobby drew a soft sigh of relief. In her room, she drank a glass of water and pulled out her medication. Not the ircan. That was for the bad pain, which this was not, not yet. Maybe not at all, if she managed it right. She gave herself an injection of a milder analgesic, and made a cup of rafith tea, blended with a sweet fruit juice to cut the astringency of the rafith. It was not something she would have chosen to drink on her own, but it would make the analgesic more effective and also work as a mild muscle relaxer. While it was steeping, she stripped off her clothing and got into the shower, putting it on a water setting and running the water cool to bring down her temperature.

She wrapped herself in a silky bathrobe as she came out. The comm was beeping.

"What's wrong?" Veral demanded, as soon as the channel opened.

"Nothing I cannot manage on my own," she said. "Go back to class."

There was no video, but she could picture his brows draw together and his lips press. "I will come back--"

She cut him off before he could finish the thought. "Go back to class." She cut the comm.

He called back. She rejected the call, and he did not try again.

*

"I told you not to overexert yourself," Veral said, as soon as he walked through the door.

T'Lin allowed herself a small sigh, put the marker in her book, and set it aside. She had spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch by the firepot under a blanket, immersed in _The Abandoned Station_ , and the exploits of Professor Ugon.

She sat up, looked at him, and said, "I do not have the mental energy to defend myself right now. But I suppose if you want to berate me for my perceived lack of good judgement, I have no choice but to sit here and listen."

That shut down his indignation faster than any eloquent argument might have. He looked up at the ceiling and said, "I do not want to do that."

"Then take your shoes and your robes off, and come sit with me."

He complied, and she handed him a PADD with her pain log. She had written it up once she had begun to feel better, and it detailed how long she had been out, the temperature and humidity, what she had eaten, how many kilometers she had walked, and everything she had done to ameliorate her pain once it had begun to flare. He read it over in silence, set the PADD aside, and said, "You did everything right."

"I know. I did nothing wrong, and still I suffer. It is unjust, and frustrating, and...and frankly it would be infuriating if I let it. But aduna, I have enough work controlling my own emotions about my condition. Do not ask me to manage yours too."

"No. Of course not. How do you feel now?"

"Well enough to go to dinner later. Your clothing is hanging on the closet door. Also I bought you this." She gave him the ring from earlier. It fit perfectly on his middle finger. The rose-gold caught the light and complemented his skin tone. Inlaid black and green stones added interest to the piece. It was gauche to draw attention to ones hands in most situations, but for a private dinner, it was appropriate.

He nodded his appreciation.

She read while he cleaned himself up for dinner. Professor Ugon was not quite Sherlock Holmes, but she had a rational mind and her ethics were founded on solid principles. An unlikely number of bodies were piling up as the story went on.

She looked up from her story when Veral came out of the hot room. The stubble of his beard was thick despite being the result of less than two days growth. He had cleaned up his neck, but otherwise left it untouched. She stood up and touched his cheek. "I was right. It suits you."

"Am I keeping it then?"

She let her hand fall. "What do you think?"

"I have no strong opinion either way. I leave the decision in your hands."

She considered. "Kiss my neck, the way you do when we have sex."

He gave her a questioning look, but complied. The rough against her neck somehow made the act even more erotic. She stepped back and reigned in her libido. They had a dinner reservation.

"Yes. It stays."

"'As she orders, so it shall be.'"

T'Lin looked away. "Do not quote that poem when we are about to go out. And put some clothes on. I had to work hard to get this reservation."

She dressed quickly, grateful that she had chosen for herself a dress that was easy to get into. Her hands ached, as they were wont to do after a flare of nerve pain. Her hair was a problem. It had grown down almost to the middle of her back. She could not go out with it loose, but her first attempt at a braid ended when her hands began to cramp.

"Veral!"

He came to her, and raised an eyebrow at her request. "I do not have anything like your skill."

"If you can be trusted with a scalpel, you can manage a three-stranded braid."

And so he did, although it took him nearly twice as long as it would have taken her. In the end, though, she had a simple but serviceable braid hanging down her back.

She draped a scarf across her shoulders, secured it with a pin in the shape of a sehlat. She looked at herself in the mirror. Acceptable.

Veral was just putting on his new ring when she came out. She stopped when she saw him. His outer robe was a dark charcoal grey, brought together at the waist by an intricate metal clasp. His under robe was primarily dark red, but it had a subtle flecks of gold adding depth and interest.

"Beautiful."

He inclined his head and gave her an incredulous look. "Objectively untrue. My face lacks symmetry, my forehead is too heavy and broad, and my eyes are too small and deep set."

If he thought himself ugly, she could not change that, so all she said was, "Do you think I am objective when I look at you? You are beautiful, and that clothing suits you."

He seemed unsure about how to respond, and so he didn't.

T'Lin had managed to secure reservations at the restaurant attached to an experimental garden at the Center for Botanical Research.

Dinner began with a tour of the garden where their food was being grown, followed by a lecture on botany, genetics, and what was involved in hybridizing plant species to create new fruits and vegetables. It was followed by a talk about the art and science of food preparation, and how these new plants were incorporated to create novel dishes.

"I thought we were coming to dinner, not a science lecture," muttered someone at the table next to them. Their companion shushed them.

Dinner did come, a succession of tasting dishes, some excellent, some merely okay, but all of them interesting. It was a fascinating dining experience.

They lingered over tea and a bowl of edible flowers.

"How was the first day of class?"

"Useful," Veral said, and began to tell her about his day. The technical details were far beyond her level of understanding, but in essence they were trying to sort out how best to treat a post-war population. The first day had been entirely devoted to trauma-informed care. Tomorrow, he said, they would discuss the diseases that were cropping up in the wake of mass migration and lowered standards of hygiene during the war.

Neither of them slept well that night. T'Lin managed two hours, and then woke up with diarrhea, whether from the strange food, the stress of the day, or something else, she could not say. When it had passed, she was too awake to return to bed, and sat on the couch reading the last of her book. She looked up when she heard Veral stir. He came and sat down next to her.

"Did I wake you?"

"No. A strange dream. Not quite a nightmare, only I was in an alley way, and each time I walked toward one end, the exit would move further away."

"Ah." She put her book down. "Those thoughts may belong to me." She told him about her experience in the alley earlier.

"Interesting," Veral said. "Do you feel trapped in a liminal space?"

T'Lin leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her fingers steepled between her legs. "I have not been thinking of it in those terms, but--I am never going to be as I was."

Veral frowned. "I do still believe that your pain will continue to decrease with time."

"But barring a great leap forward in medicine, I will continue to have health challenges and weaknesses that I would otherwise not have."

Veral nodded. Illogical to deny fact, although she could sense that he wanted to.

"I think I am coming to terms with that. I have been putting things on hold until I am better, but if there is no singular state of better in my immediate future, then perhaps it is time to begin pursuing my goals again."

"What goals?"

She leaned back against the couch and Veral put his arm around her. "I don't know. The things I wanted before are not the things I want now."

"What do you want now?"

"When I know, I will tell you."

*

Veral studied. T'Lin finished _The Abandoned Station_ and began _Sixteen Flying Reptiles_ , its sequel. At one point they had sex, which was pleasant, but did nothing to help either of them sleep. T'Lin finally fell asleep about an hour before the dawn, while Veral did not sleep at all. When he began to get ready, she woke up and tried to get up to help him get ready, but he pulled the blanket back over her and said, "You arranged my breakfast and sorted my clothing last night, and you have no other duties. Sleep."

So she slept. When she woke, there were messages waiting for her on the computer. One was from the clan, informing her that her request to join her account and Veral's had been rejected.

"Accounts of two individuals belonging to different houses may only be joined if...  
...those individuals are married according to Vulcan law."

From there a long list of other provisions for joining accounts were listed. "We are married," she muttered, disregarding the rest. "It's the first one on the list."

She pulled up a list of Ancillary Clan Offices for the Clan of Masutra and found one in Vulcana Regar. She also sent a message to Veral, asking him to call her. He did so almost immediately. There was video, and she could see a cup of what was probably soka in his hand, and a mass of people in healing robes milling around behind him. Mid-morning break.

"Our accounts are still not linked, and I am tired of sending messages. I found an Ancillary Clan Office nearby. I am going there and I will be like Trevan when he went before S'shar."

Veral sipped his soka. "You're going to stand in the clan office for six days holding a rotting lizard?"

"One hopes it will not take quite so long as that. The lizard I will hold in reserve as a last resort. But they will not be rid of me until I have satisfaction."

"Know that though I am absent, my katra is with you on your righteous quest," Veral said.

She ignored the sarcasm. "Do your parents have a copy of our marriage contract?"

"I am sure they do," Veral said. A gong sounded and he raised an eyebrow, silently asking if she needed anything else from him. She shook her head and cut the comm.

She called Skan next. No video feed, but she could hear the cry of a sharva going hunting. It was evening in Shi'kahr.

"How may I be of service, my daughter?"

She told him, briefly, about their accounts, and her need for their contract. The hotel had a small items transporter, and T'Lin, thus armed, set out for the ancillary clan office.

It was a short ride by subway, and then she was on the sixth floor of a building that had not had its climate controls updated since the Hasin scandal. It was hot and stuffy, and it did nothing to improve her state of mind.

The woman who gestured her back was tall, thin, middle-aged, and had an ink stain on her right middle finger. She looked so much the perfect representation of the clan bureaucrat that she might have stepped out of a Saarash print. She was even wearing an old-fashioned robe, and her braid was slightly crooked. T'Lin narrowed her eyes. It had to be deliberate. No one looked that much the stereotype by accident.

"Sit," the woman said. Her name plate, expertly calligraphed, said T'Sar.

T'Lin sat. "I need to join my credit account with my husband's."

T'Sar tapped a few keys. "What is your full name?"

"Vreshm V'rsi T'Lin, ch'T'Lyra, of the House of Suvoth."

T'Sar consulted her computer and raised an eyebrow. "You are married?"

"I am."

"According to my records, you are not."

"According to my entangled neuron state, I am."

T'Sar raised an eyebrow again, this one less curiosity than warning. T'Lin dropped her eyes in silent apology.

"I was married on the 15th day of et'Khior, in the year 802."

"I assume you mean the year 14,802?"

What other possible millennium could she have meant? "Yes."

"Specificity is important."

"Of course," T'Lin said, biting back retort about specifying the millennium in every day conversation being both unnecessary and illogically time consuming. One did not argue such things when dealing with the clan office.

"I need your marriage contract."

T'Lin took it from her pocket.

T'Sar frowned, and turned back to her computer. Several keystrokes more and she said, "Your marriage is preliminarily registered with the clan office, but was awaiting further documentation." She tapped at the computer. "Your marriage has been registered with the Vulcan Medical office, however. That should not have happened without a clan registration." T'Lin blinked, and thought that if T'Sar intended to make her re-register with the Vulcan Medical office, she might just forget the deference due to a representative of the clan. T'Sar made a little moue with her mouth, and then said, "Well it is done now, and cannot be undone."

She tapped the marriage contract with one finger. "I need the original."

"This is the original."

"It is dated the 19th of et'Khior, in the year 14,802. You have stated that you were married on the 15th of et'Khior, in the year 14,802."

T'Lin supposed she should be grateful that T'Sar didn't expand the date out even more. She could have been absolutely correct and said, "in the year as counted from the founding of Seleya" every single time.

"My marriage contract is post-facto."

T'Sar looked up. "I see." There was a tinge of displeasure in her voice, as though T'Lin had decided to marry a man so deep in the grip of fever that he didn't have the capacity to sign anything just to flout the clan office. Never mind that the clan office was the reason she had married him in the first place. Someone had looked at her file and decided that she was Veral's last best hope of making it through the fever alive. She was grateful to that unknown person, but hardly about to apologize for them not getting around to her file before Veral had slipped into plak tow.

"This needs to be filled out by a non-parental witness to your marriage," T'Sar said, sliding a PADD across the table.

"Why can I not fill it out?"

"You are a party to the marriage. It needs to be filled out by a non-parental witness. Parties are not non-parental witnesses." T'Sar spoke slowly, as though explaining something to a child.

A non-parental witness. So not her mother. She had been singularly non-attentive to detail at her wedding, but she could recall that T'Yri had been the one to lead the ceremony, and Veral's friend, whom she had very much later learned was named Selesh, had stood with her husband. She disliked the thought of asking T'Yri to fill it out, for reasons that she was sure were entirely logical and had nothing to do with her being intimidated by T'Yri.

"My husband's friend stood with him. Will he suffice?"

"Is he a non-parental witness?"

"Yes."

"Then he will suffice." She tapped the PADD. "There is a second form loaded onto this PADD. It needs to be filled out by a healer, attesting to the existence of a marriage bond."

"My husband is a healer."

"It needs to be filled out by a healer who is not your husband."

T'Lin kept her mouth firmly shut. Between the deaths and disabilities of many qualified doctors and the poor health of the post-war population, the Vulcan medical establishment was overloaded. The thought of taking up a healer's valuable time to have one press their hand against her temple and confirm what everyone knew filled her with so much...disapprobation that she would definitely forget the deference due to a representative of the clan if she dared to say anything.

"Once I have these forms completed, I will finish the registration of your marriage."

"And then our accounts will be joined."

"And then you can file an application to have your accounts joined."

"You have been...adequately helpful," T'Lin said, picking up the PADD and her marriage contract.

She sent a message to Selesh, asking for his help, and then went on to the university, where Veral's training was going on.

The university campus was a new experience. She had finished her required primary schooling and, unsure of what she wanted to do next, she had declined to apply for a place in a secondary school, choosing to stay at home with her parents and work on her father's boat while she sorted it out. And then the dissolution of her first bond had left her disordered, and her marriage to Veral less than a year later had made her confused, and then there was the war, and her injuries, and her ongoing chronic pain. 

She found the lecture hall with little trouble, and stood in the back. Every seat was filled. Veral turned to look at her, his face impassive but his mind demanding to know what she needed. She sent him reassurance, and settled down to wait. According to the schedule, this lecture would be over in eighteen minutes.

She tried, at first, to glean something from the lecture, but it was far beyond her level of understanding, and so she allowed her mind to wander, until the lecture ended, and everyone began to filter out. Veral walked over to her, and she said, "I need a healer. One who is not you. I thought I might have my pick of them here."

He took the PADD from her and skimmed it, recognizing the form at once. She sensed aggravation from him, but not directed at her. He called someone over, someone she did not know but Veral clearly did.

"Form 16408," he said, by way of explanation, and the other healer made a gesture of resignation.

"This is going to feel strange," Veral warned her as the other healer reached one hand to each of their foreheads.

It felt more than strange. Having another mind touch the bond felt like a violation. Like being in bed with her husband and seeing a face peering in the window.

It was over in an instant. T'Lin shivered and resisted the urge to cling to Veral to reassure herself that it was once again only the two of them in the privacy of their bond. The other healer tapped a few things on the PADD, and handed it back. "It is done."

"That was decidedly unpleasant," T'Lin said, after the other healer had walked away.

"Any mental work that touches a bond not your own is unpleasant. It is not a place for outsiders," Veral said. "But it is the only way to verify that a bond exists, and I suppose the clan has a vested interest in being certain. Do you need anything else? I have another class."

"No." She checked her messages and was surprised to see one from Selesh. "Apparently I am meeting with Selesh in forty six minutes."

*

Selesh sent her his finished witness statement as she was sitting down across from him. "I have been as vague as I could be while still making it clear that I saw you both married that day," he said. "But read it before I send it to the clan office. If there is anything that you would rather I had not revealed, I will remove it."

T'Lin read it over while Selesh worked on other things. It was entirely free of anything private, except in so far that their wedding was private by its very nature, and she gave her assent to its being placed on record in the clan office.

"You did not request that we meet in order to give me this." Selesh lived in Nal'shin, not far from Shi'kahr. He had come to Vulcana Regar especially to see her, which meant there was something else he wanted to discuss.

"Are you familiar with my vocation?" Selesh asked.

"You work with victims of the war."

Selesh inclined his head. "I work with victims of many things. The war did much to expand our client roster, but people have been finding ways to be horrible to one another for a long time. Presently, I have a client who is in need of a safe place to stay. She also happens to have medical administration experience. I know that Veral wants an admin."

T'Lin watched a lizard stalk an insect on a nearby tree. They were seated in an atrium on the top of a skyscraper, large enough that it had its own ecosystem. "Why are you speaking to me and not him?"

"Because all I am asking from Veral is to take on an experienced medical admin. There will be limited inconvenience and great benefit to him. But I want you to be her friend."

T'Lin blinked. "Her...friend?"

"She is very much in need of one."

"Who is this woman?"

Selesh looked away. "I am bound by the Silences to maintain her anonymity and her privacy until everything is settled. She is in a precarious situation. I believe her to be worthy of your friendship."

T'Lin allowed herself a small twist of her lips. She wondered if people asking her to form commitments to strangers without knowing so much as their name was going to become a recurring feature of her life. She hoped not.

"She is Vulcan?"

"No. An alien. It will make things harder for her, but for various reasons Vulcan is the safest place for her right now."

T'Lin considered the proposition. Veral would get an admin. This woman would have her safety. And T'Lin...

Something that had been turning over in her head below the conscious level fell into place.

"How did you come to do the work that you do?" T'Lin asked.

Selesh raised an eyebrow. He was quiet for several seconds before speaking again. "There was a time when I needed the help of the very same organization that I now work for. It, and Veral, kept me sane. Possibly kept me alive. When I was stable again, I decided that I wanted to serve others, as I had been served."

"You enjoy the work?"

"I do." He gave her a searching look. "Are you considering this work for yourself?"

"I am considering many things," T'Lin said. "Having Veral in my head has made me more interested in the healing professions." She had resisted it at first, not liking the idea that she was so easily influenced, but it was the way of things that bonded couples often ended up in complimentary professions.

"It's good work," Selesh said.

"What is the worst thing about it?"

Selesh considered the question. "The Venn diagram of people who have had horrible things done to them and people who have done horrible things has far more overlap than most people know. Could you sit in front of a person who very nearly beat his spouse to death in a fit of rage and set aside judgement and work with him? Could you find empathy and understanding for such a person?"

"I--" She turned the question over in her mind. "I think so."

He looked away for a moment, and then back at her. "And if I said that person is me? If I told you that I beat and mentally tortured my wife for over a decade, culminating in almost killing her? What then?"

She stared at him. Light filtered through the colored glass of the ceiling and cast odd patterns on the stone floor.

"Presumably that behavior has now ended," T'Lin said softly.

"It has. But could you have walked into a room when I still had her blood on my face and put your hand on my shoulder and sat with me?"

"If your wife was in need of care, I would have prioritized her over you. But if she was already being tended to, then yes. I believe so." She folded her hands in her lap to keep herself from moving them restlessly. "Was there a reason that you did that to her?"

"Because when I was eight years old my father went into my head and removed a memory of him committing a crime. And then he became paranoid in his guilt, and thought that if I became close to my bondmate, she might someday meld with me so deeply that she would see what he had done, and so he went back into my head, and instilled a deep hatred of her in me. I do not think he meant to make me a monster, only to keep us distant. But he is a stupid man, as well as being a greedy one, and there was very little logic or skill in what he did."

"That is..." She trailed off, unable to come up with the right word.

"Yes. And it is not the worst story you would encounter. If it is something you are interested in, my client would be a good testing ground for you. Her story is straightforward, as these things go, and she does not have a complex history of trauma. As I said, I want you to be a friend. You only need to offer companionship. Assistance in settling into a strange community. I will take care of everything else. But you will see what it is that I do. And if you are still interested, I can assist you in moving forward."

T'Lin nodded slowly. "Acceptable."

"I will send my proposal to Veral. If he is willing to take her into his clinic, and I have many reasons to believe that he will be, I will make the arrangements." He stood up and took his leave.

She watched him go and thought about how a single phrase could encompass so much.

_When I was eight, my father went into my head._

_During the war, I suffered chemical burns._

She wondered about Selesh's wife. _My husband beat me until I was nearly dead._ T'Lin shivered. Even when their relationship had been new and awkward, even when he had first run his shaking, feverish hand up her thigh, she had always been safe with Veral.

A message came into her PADD. It was from the clan office. She forwarded it to the Veral, adding, "The clan has accepted that we are in fact married. Do you want Bajoran for dinner?"

*

T'Lin picked up two containers from a Bajoran takeout restaurant in the so-called spacer section of the city, where people who worked in space kept small, rarely used apartments to come home to when they were not on assignment. It was out of the way, and the restaurant offered no delivery, but the concierge at the hotel had assured her it was worth the trip. The line had stretched to the door but moved quickly, and T'Lin went back to the hotel with a large, extra-spicy hasparat for Veral and vegetable soup for herself.

She was finishing setting out the meal when Veral walked in. It was loud outside, and she had moved the table indoors and closed the balcony doors. Veral was hanging up his outer robe as she asked, "Is Selesh's wife okay?"

He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "He told you that story?"

"Yes. And I have been wondering about his wife ever since. Is she well now?"

Veral spread his hands. "Kiri's life is what happens when the social safety net fails at several critical points. I believe she is doing well now, but I have not seen her in several years. She lives in Chi-ree."

"Did you help him to recover the memory?"

Veral nodded. "I was his pyllora, yes. I had not yet gone to Gol, then. I did not serve him so well as I might have." His thoughts turned dark. "These are not memories I wish to revisit. Is there a reason for your question?"

She set the napkins by their plates and turned to face him. "You told me once that your work had let you see the very worst of what Vulcan can be. And today Selesh told me that his work often exists in the...in the masu-kastra where those who have had horrible things done to them and those who have done horrible things become one. I told you that I would say when I knew what my goals were, and I think they are beginning to coalesce around something like what Selesh does, but I wonder about undertaking such a path. It seems like a hard one."

Through the bond she could feel his reaction to her statement. Satisfaction was foremost, but there was concern also, and an odd pride that she assumed was him liking the idea of telling people his wife was in aid work. "It can be," he said, and she felt him reign in all of his emotions and return to logical thought. "You are wise to think deeply about whether you want to pursue it. But it is a very rewarding thing to commit yourself to. I think you would do well. You are balanced. You have empathy, but it does not crowd out your judgement. Your logic remains intact." He took off his shoes and put them away, and then admitted, "Sometimes I struggle to hold to the course of logic in the face of great suffering."

They ate in silence and afterward spoke of lighter things. Veral listened politely to her thoughts about Professor Ugon, numerous though they were.

"Do you think you are going to read more detective fiction?" Veral asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"Your parents forewarned me about your new interests rapidly becoming obsessions." She narrowed her eyes and he quickly assured her, "I mean no disrespect, aduna."

"Obsession implies distress, either to me or to others. A slight boredom on the part of my unfortunate family members aside, I do not think I cause anyone distress."

A tiny smile played on his lips. "I withdraw the word, and substitute 'preoccupations.'"

"Still somewhat excessive as a description." He raised an eyebrow. She looked away. "I will admit that it may at times be justified. I like the things that I like. I will not apologize."

"I would never ask you to."

She reached across the table and took his hand. "I appreciate you," she said. "I appreciate many things about you, but first and foremost your unfailing kindness."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.

"Also you should know that I have ordered the complete Professor Ugon series and it has already been delivered to our house."

He rubbed at his growing beard. "How many books?"

"Eighteen. And another due to be published next month."

Veral nodded. "This is going to be...interesting."

Selesh called while T'Lin was clearing the table and told Veral about his proposal. T'Lin brewed the jumja tea that she had gotten at the Bajoran restaurant while they talked. When the comm ended, they moved to sit by the fire.

"Will you meet with this woman tomorrow?" Veral asked. "I am satisfied with her experience, but I would like to know something of her as a person. I will trust the final decision to your judgement."

"You honor me husband. I will meet with her."

*

Zira Egran was the first dark-skinned Trill T'Lin had ever met. This said nothing about the actual statistical distribution of the phenotype in Trill society because T'Lin had met a total of six Trill in her life and that was not a sample size from which one could draw conclusions. Where all the others had been light skinned with dark spots descending from their hairlines and down over their temples, Zira's skin was dark brown, and her spots were created by an absence of pigment. T'Lin thought it a lovely color variation.

They were meeting in the lobby of the hotel, in a private corner that would allow them to speak freely without being overheard. Selesh was there, sitting next to Zira.

"I'm not joined," Zira said, as T'Lin was sitting down.

"I was not going to ask," T'Lin said.

"I know, but you were probably wondering, and I find it's best to just get that out of the way from the outset. It's just me in here."

"Thank you for that information," T'Lin said. She had been slightly curious, although she never would have asked. If a Trill was or was not joined, that was entirely their own business.

Zira looked at Selesh. "You told her?"

"I have told her nothing. I kept Silence, just as I promised you I would."

Zira took a deep breath. "Tell her."

Selesh set a PADD down on the table between them and looked at T'Lin. "Zira is being stalked by her former psychiatrist. Who became her abuser after he manipulated her into total dependency upon him. When she finally broke free from his influence, he decided that he did not want to let her go, and so he has continued to pursue her."

Zira got up and paced behind Selesh's chair. "He's joined, which means he's got several lifetimes worth of friends and connections. And Selesh is pretty sure he worked in espionage in one of his former lives, so...he's not your usual stalker."

"People with espionage and military backgrounds are actually statistically more likely to engage in stalking behavior," Selesh said. "But there is no reason to think that we cannot still keep you safe, despite his experience in tracking people."

"You keep saying that word 'safe' like if you repeat it enough, I will be."

"You are safe, in so far as anyone can be safe in a fundamentally uncertain universe," Selesh said. "Vulcan has some of the strictest privacy laws in the Federation and our culture does not encourage idle gossip or revealing personal information to strangers."

T'Lin raised an eyebrow. "Is this why you said she needed to be on Vulcan?"

Selesh nodded. "We also have robust laws and procedures in place for stalking victims. We get more than our share of them."

T'Lin inclined her head. "Interesting. Is there a reason for that?"

Selesh's eyebrows went up and then down. "From what I am told, we are inscrutable yet magnetic."

Zira burst out laughing. "And I thought being asked how far down the spots went was annoying!"

The laughter was jarring, but it seemed to relax her, and she sat back down. "Selesh says it's nice where you are. By the sea."

"I think it is," T'Lin said.

"I'll stand out, though."

"You would be one of three aliens," T'Lin said. "One of those is Rihansu, an old man who defected long ago and has lived with us for many years. The other is Human, genetically, but he is married to a Vulcan and has lived on this planet for his entire life. So, yes. You will stand out."

Zira looked at Selesh. "You're sure I'm not safer in a city?"

"It's next to impossible to know who is watching you in a city. The same things that will make you stand out will make anyone who comes after you stand out also. Not that I think anyone is likely to. It is an out of the way place. No one goes there without a reason."

Having spent the last three days surrounded by tourists in Vulcana Regar, T'Lin was very grateful for that.

"Your location will be a closely guarded secret," Selesh continued. "And I will coordinate additional security with the local peace officer."

T'Hanra would not care for that. She only worked as a peace officer because her mother had insisted that she do something to contribute to her society, and crime was essentially non-existent in Shi'aluk, which left her abundant time to do her favorite activity, staring silently into space. She was either the laziest, dullest person T'Lin had ever known, or a great philosopher thinking profound thoughts that she had not yet decided to share, but either way she disliked activity of any kind.

"And this Veral will give me a job. I can't sit around all day. I'll go crazy...crazier." She rubbed at her neck. "I can't believe this all started because I wanted help dealing with my anxiety. I'm more anxious now than I've ever been in my life."

Selesh looked at T'Lin who said, "Veral asked me to make the final determination, as he is unavailable today, and we are aware that you are eager to be settled."

Zira scrubbed at her face. "So this is my interview. Well. What do you want to know?"

"What do you want to tell me?"

"I'm a good admin. Really good. Smart. Capable. Organized. I'm not a medical research librarian, but I know how to structure requests to get the best data back from them." Zira started to rattle off professional accomplishments until T'Lin held up a hand. "Veral has reviewed your resume. Your experience is more than satisfactory, and you come at Selesh's recommendation. What of you personally?" 

Zira licked her lips. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm tired. No offense, but I don't want to be on this planet at all. I don't want any of this." She looked at Selesh. "I appreciate you brining me here and all you've done for me, but leaving home to move to Vulcan of all places was never something I aspired to." She looked back at T'Lin. "I'm moody. Brittle. Did I already mention scared? And as you can imagine, my least favorite words in the universe right now are, 'have you seen a counselor about that?'"

T'Lin nodded. Understandable. "What do you want?" she asked.

"Realistically? I want to catch my breath. I want to get my feet back under me. I lost control of my life two years ago, and I need to figure out...everything."

T'Lin stared at her, trying to get a sense of the woman. After a several seconds, she said, "I know something of needing a respite after a long period of stress," T'Lin said. "Come to Shi'aluk and take over the administration of my husband's clinic. Sit by the sea. Catch your breath."

A tear ran down Zira's cheek. She brushed it away. "Yes. I think I will."

*

"She's emotional," T'Lin said. "But she will be useful despite that. I like her. I want to give her a place to rest and recover."

"I trust your judgement," Veral said. They were on the balcony in the cool night air. He had his bare feet up on the railing. Down below people were out again making noise.

"She will require patience," T'Lin said.

"Worthwhile things often do."

T'Lin would be grateful to leave this city the day after tomorrow, although she had taken care to return to Conundrum Books and ask to be remembered by the proprietor as she came across detective series available in Golic. She had put in a special request for anything in Xir'tani, but she knew that to be almost an impossibility. Being a member of a linguistic minority was often frustrating. Already Shi-An had found for her two more series that had Golic translations. She was not certain about the Terran Miss Marple, but the Bajoran Vedek Rinak held promise. There were advantages to having a multitude of services all together where they could be easily discovered, but a few days once a year in such a place was enough for her taste.

T'Lin stood and leaned against the balcony. She felt Veral tense a little at the sight, and then make himself calm. "I am going to apply to the university in Klan-ne, into their program for aid work."

"You have my full support," Veral said.

"I do not grasp things as easily as you do. When my classes touch on medicine and things adjacent to it--"

"I am told I am an adequate tutor. Of course I will assist you."

She had let her hair down and the breeze ran through it. She tipped her head back and savored it.

"I do not entirely dislike this place."

"But it will be good to be home," Veral said.

"Yes." The computer chimed softly and T'Lin walked over to the console and checked her messages. Selesh had sent her a long introduction to the ethics and general practice of aid work, his extensive notes from his first year in training, annotated with reflections from the distance of several years in the field, and Zira's case notes, modified to remove sensitive information.

She bent forward and began to read. Veral leaned down to look over her shoulder.

"I need to see to dinner," T'Lin said, reaching to turn off the screen.

Veral stayed her hand. "No," he said, straightening. "I will see to dinner. You have other work."

She looked again at the screen, and felt uncertainty. It was so much, and this was only Selesh giving her some preliminary information to get her started.

"I do not know if I can do this," T'Lin said softly.

"The only way to find out is to try," Veral said.

She met his eyes, nodded once, and began.

end

**Author's Note:**

>  _The Hidden Universe Guide to Vulcan_ is a real book. Sadly AFAIK, they only did two Star Trek travel guides, one for Vulcan and one for the Klingon Homeworld. I own the Vulcan one, and some details about Vulcana Regar were taken from it.
> 
> Zira Egran came about almost entirely due to [this picture](http://nashforhire.tumblr.com/post/141325116957/there-needs-to-be-more-diversity-in-trills-and), because I loved it and decided to make a character around it. I want to write her story next, but I want to write a lot of things. See above re: cats and cars and jobs making that kind of difficult.
> 
> Thanks as always to Beatrice Otter for the beta, and for being an unflagging cheerleader for this silly little series that it makes me so happy to write.


End file.
